son’s pride in turning out good work. She only wished he could read his own proofs, but that turned out to be mostly her job, and one that often had to be done at night.
The week that Bob thought would be a slack one turned out to be strenuous. On the Tuesday morning Townshend, the owner of the biggest timber mill up the river, walked into the office.
“Where’s the boss?” he asked as Valerie got up from her chair.
“I am for the present,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?”
He looked doubtfully at her. “Well, I thought I’d try you people on a job. But I guess I’d better send it on to Auckland.”
“Dear me! Do I look as discouraging as all that?” She gave him a ravishing smile. “And it’s hardly fair to judge the jobbing work by me, anyway. I don’t do it. But we have one of the best men from Auckland here who does, and he’s bored to death because we haven’t jobs worthy of his skill. Now this one of yours might just save his reason. You might let me have a look at it.”
His shrewd eyes had lit up as she talked. He took a bundle of timber specifications out of his pocket and unrolled them. He didn’t suppose she would understand them in the least. And she didn’t, but she gazed at them with the greatest interest. There were fifteen different kinds of sheets, and she was really alarmed at the multiplicity of red and black lines and the complicated figures and the amount of careful proof-reading it would take. And she had no idea whether Johnson could do it, or whether they had the paper.
“This looks like the stuff he’s been itching for,” she said warmly. “How many do you want of each and when
